The Da Tolkien Code
by Fleur de la Nuit
Summary: Have you read The Da Vinci Code? How about the Lord of the Rings? Ever wondered what would happen if we threw them both in a blender and hit mix? Well, here's a chance for you to find out!
1. The Beginning of the End of Middle Earth

**The Da Tolkien Code **

**_When two worlds collide that never should…A The Da Vinci Code and The Lord of the Rings Fan fiction_**

Chapter One:

The Beginning of the End of Middle Earth

In the beginning (even before Atari and VHS tapes…Gasp!), there were created seven codes…and a half. These codes were designed to protect the Elves, Rangers, Humans, Dwarves, Hobbits, Wizards, Animals and the evil Lawyers that no one likes and everyone wishes would die. For those of you who can't count that high, that makes eight races. However, since no one really likes Lawyers, we only give them half credit. Hence, we have seven and a half races and seven and a half codes. Anymore basic math problems? Hopefully not, because I swear some of you had steam coming out of your ears a second ago…

Now, these codes were written down on a biodegradable paper and placed inside cylinders that took secret passwords. Although the cylinders were actually made out of a medieval version of Tupperware, they were extremely hard to break. If one should somehow break the cylinder, however, a vile full of a Vault energy drink ancestor would break as well. When the vile broke, one of two things could possibly happen: A) The liquid would dissolve the paper, therefore loosing the code, or B) The cylinder would play the "My Little Pony" theme song twenty times in a row, before bursting into flames. Which of the two occurred was decided upon who broke the cylinder…and whether or not it was daylight savings times…

Each race was given a cylinder (remember our previous calculations, my little Einsteins) to hide, worship, or play catch with. Our furrier (and much cuter) relatives, the Animals, were the first to loose their beloved cylinder. For some ridiculous reason, it was put in the care of the canines, who buried it to "protect" it. Unfortunately, the only one who knew where the cylinder was buried died in a freak fetching incident. Down to six and a half codes (don't worry my little chickadees, I'll do all the number work so that none of you go postal trying to figure out the answer…)

Next came out buddies, the ever back-stabbing, lying-through-their-teeth Lawyers. Of course, they had no trouble keeping track of their cylinder; after all, they know everything. The actual cause of them no longer owning the cylinder was (dun dun dun!) E-bay. Alas, that addicted curse! Luckily, the Lawyers were able to get thirteen dollars, ninety-two cents, and a free pen set for the priceless artifact. And then, there were… (What am I hoping for, a miracle!)…six.

Unlike those flea-bitten, virus-infected, foul-mouthed creatures and the Animals, the Elves, Humans, Hobbits, Rangers, Dwarves, and Wizards knew better than to do foolish things like that. Instead, each race started its own band into which they entrusted them with their cylinders. Of course, much like it is today, almost nowhere is safe. The banks were all robbed every one of them. Mysteriously, (well…not really), only the cylinders were taken. (Go figure.)

Turning to each other, desperate to get their shinny tubes back, they rose together as one. Before they could begin their quest to locate them, cable TV was invented, soon followed by the internet. Obviously, nothing was ever achieved, and they all became lazy. That is, until an e-mail was sent to the leaders of each race. The leaders were all smart (for their own kind), brave (unless something actually happened), and on an addicting role-playing site on which they all met. The e-mail was sent by a very bad speller and went like this:

deer whoever is reeding this,

eye have yore pretty tube. ewe will never sea it again, unless eye somehow manage two find mee. ha ha loosers.

singed,

smart won

P.S. ewe had the bestest post on last weaks game. Ewe r my hero!

The one's who received the letter all checked the sender's profile and found out that he/she lived in Paris, France. After starting several threads and sending many e-mails, they all finally figured out who had received the e-mail. These are who received the e-mail: ELVES – Legolas, Galadriel, Kebler; HUMANS – Robert Langdon, Farimir; HOBBITS – Frodo, Sam, Pippin, Merry (big surprise there!); RANGERS – Aragon; DWARVES – Gimli; WIZARDS – Gandalf, Dumbledore (Don't ask…just go with it…).

These 13 "heroes" decided to all meet in New York, since they couldn't afford tickets all the way to France. Deep in the wilderness of Central Park, our story begins…


	2. Confusion in Central Park

**Chapter Two: Confusion in Central Park**

Robert Langdon stood in the middle of a very unlikely group of confused beings. Around the thirteen of them, people were bustling about, feeding pigeons, playing on the playground going on walks, and playing fetch with their dogs. Even though it was only ten in the morning on Saturday, the green oasis in concrete New York City was already wide awake. His companions, however, were far from even remotely up. Most of them had half-open eyes, were yawning, or leaning on someone or something. Taking a breath, Robert prepared to talk to his new found team of weary "adventurers".

"Well, I believe we all know why we're here, right?" he asked, looking around, half a smile on his face. He received several blank looks, one or two smiles, and then many more blank stares. An extremely chubby one with curly, sandy blonde hair stood up to face him. He probably would have felt more in-control sitting down, since he only appeared to be four and half feet, if that. Giving Robert a strange look, he continued in what sounded like an awkward British accent.

"Now see here, sir," the short one said, "I want you to know that I think this is foolish and dangerous! Why should we have to fix a problem that our ancestors caused?" His statement was met by quite a few nods of the heads and mutters of agreement. As he opened his mouth to continue, the one who had been sitting next to him previously stood up and was as tall as the first. This one, however, had black hair and electrified blue eyes. Gently, he rested his hand on the first one's shoulder. Nodding to him, he motioned for him to sit down.

"That's quite enough Sam…" he said, smiling. Sam smiled back with a look of affection, that to some looked like a bit more than just friendship. Quickly, Sam sat down.

"Yes, of course Mr. Frodo." As Frodo began to speak, Sam's faithful eyes never left him.

"My dear Sam does raise a good point, however," he said, his eyes scanning everyone's faces, "I believe that we need to do this…" His voice began to grow with confidence, "If we do not do it, who shall? The very existence of us as we know it depends on us! They're counting on us…and I want you!" he finished, pointing his index finger and doing a rather impressive impersonation of Uncle Sam, receiving a few claps of excitement from his crowd. A blonde, preppy, nature-loving looking male stood up and went to stand next to Frodo, towering over him.

"I believe Frodo is correct as well. Now, shall we introduce ourselves? I," he said, puffing his chest out and placing his fists on his sides, making sure everyone got to see him at his best, "am Legolas." A woman stood, rolling her eyes at Legolas. Curtsying gracefully, she smiled warmly and spoke.

"I am the Lady Galadriel, of the woods." Two more of the short people stood up, both taller than the other two with look of mischief on their faces.

"I'm Merry," said the darker haired one. Jerking a thumb at the other, he added, "And this here's Pippin." Pippin shook his head quickly, whispering loudly to Merry.

"How many times have I told you?! I changed it to Pimpin'…Damn, get it straight!" Merry rolled his eyes at his friend, but didn't correct himself. Instead, a small, midget-sized elf with a green pointy hat and shoes jumped up to make himself heard.

"I, the leader of the Kebler Elves, declare that you guys are all completely insane! I should have never left the trees!" Turning to leave, he stopped as if he realized something. Walking over to Merry and "Pimpin'", he extended a hand. Opening it, he revealed a small wand, made of silver metal. "Since I refuse to take part in this suicide mission, I give you all, the magic wand! It has few uses that we know of…" he said, ashamed, "but it _can_ summon some of my delicious cookies, should you ever grow hungry." Straightening his hat, he began to walk away calling out to them "Good day and good luck to all of you!"

A stout-looking small man with a wild beard and a rather large axe commented, "Oh well…he looked weak anyways," Standing, he bowed deeply toward the rest," Gimli, at your service, should you be needing it."

"I…am called Aragon," a gruff voice spoke up, it's owner a tall, wilderness-seeming man. Reluctantly, the blonde man next to him spoke up.

"I'm Farimir…" he muttered, "And I must say that I agree with young Sam over there. Why us?"

"Because, you can…" an elderly voice rang out strongly, an older man standing up. Robes that were a deep blue hue flowed around his form and a dark blue pointed hat whose point was folded down rested on top of his grey hair. He looked at them through half-moon spectacles and stroked his long beard once. "I am Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.."

The only other older looking being with whom Dumbledore had been chatting idly with before, rose as well. He wore white robes and his long hair and beard were of the same shade. Raising a worn hand up in sign of agreement, he spoke. "I, the all mighty Gandalf the White, agree with Mr. Dumbledore. Also," he continued, a slight haze coming over his eyes, "May I say to young Master Frodo, that if any artifacts we are after turn out to be pure evil, bent on destroying all living forms, he will not be sent off alone to destroy them…We all remember how long that took with the accursed ring…" he muttered. Frodo quickly rose to his feet in self-defense.

"Oi! Oh powerful, Gandalf the White who only has a superior title because he discovered OXYCLEAN! Let's see how quickly you can bring a demonic-powered ring to a city of hell while a grey creature with split personalities tries to kill you and you've only got Sam to try and help you!" Frodo cried out. Realizing his last comment, he smiled toward Sam. "But you did a terrific job, though." Sam looked pleased with himself and gave Frodo a rather feminine look of gratitude.

Langdon looked quickly from Sam to Frodo, and then to Gandalf, obviously feeling awkward. "Er….all rightie then…" he said slowly. "Well for those of you who aren't aware, I am Professor Robert Langdon. I have a degree in Symbolology, and am greatly looking forward to this little expedition." There was a moment of silence in which everyone looked at everyone else, sizing each other up. A rustle in the bushes nearest them gathered all of their attention. Aragon was the first to respond, walking toward the bushes, picking up a stick on the way and wielding it much like a staff, raising his unusual weapon high to strike whatever awaited him. Just as his free hand moved to part the shrubbery, it opened itself and Aragon let out a cry of surprise.

"Ahhhh!" he yelled, falling backward. Everyone else looked to see what had startled him to drop. Twelve jaws dropped at their viewings, with the exception of Lady Galadriel. Before them stood a woman with hair as black as night and eyes as blue as the clear country sky. Her hair was pulled back in a sloppy bun attempt. She wore tight blue jeans as seen worn everywhere in high schools today, and a hot pink tube top that stopped just short of her navel. Giving them a smile, she stepped forward.

"I hope I'm not too late," the beautiful elf said softly, "I decided to do a bit of shopping so as to help us all on the journey."

"What do you think you're doing here?!" Aragon said, still stunned, as he clambered to his feet. "I told you to stay at home!"

"Hmpf," the woman replied, "You also said you were just going out to visit your mother..." Aragon stared at her, unable to find a way out of this. "Exactly why I didn't listen to you," she said stubbornly, adding to the rest in a cool tone, "The name's Arwen…and it's a good thing I stopped at the mall…"

True, almost none of them wore what is considered to be "normal" clothes. The hobbits all wore brown trouser and earth-colored shirts; Farimir and Aragon were both wearing mostly leather that looked to be from the thirteenth century. Then there were the elves, Legolas having light brown leggings and a green shirt and Galadriel with her white robes looking like a mental ward patient. Gimli had on what looked to be dirt-caked rags and the wizards appeared to be ready to go to a Mardi Gras party.

Robert glanced at them all and nodded. He, at least looked to have dressed in this millennium. "A change of wardrobe as to blend in, very clever Miss Arwen," he praised her, causing Aragon to tighten up as Arwen's cheeks turned light crimson in color.

"Well," she said, shrugging her shoulders, "After the Third Age, what was I supposed to do? That's why I took up fashion designing and criticizing. Now…"she muttered aloud, "Who to begin with?" Her eyes stopped as they fell upon Gimli, a mischievous mile upon her lips. "You'll do just fine…"

Gimli's eyes tripled in size and he quickly tried to hide behind Robert as Arwen advanced on him.


End file.
